The Witch of Diego Garcia
by sockets
Summary: Corazon, Alicia's 83 year old grandmother, thinks Diego Garcia is a grand bit of fun, especially being a scientific specimen and one of the island's most desired sockets.
1. Science & the Witch: CorazonxPercexDrift

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Perceptor/Drift/Corazon Rodriguez  
**Rating**: NC-17 mech/mech/female  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Sticky, First Time  
**Summary**: Corazon, Alicia's 83 year old grandmother, thinks Diego Garcia is a grand bit of fun, especially being a scientific specimen.  
**Notes**: Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
Gift fic for Flarn, who won the Dec 2010 reader contest.Follows the events of The Naturalists: First Christmas

**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond talk  
::text:: comm chatter

Spanish to English:  
Querido - dear one  
Jovencita - young thing

* * *

****

Science and the Witch 1: First Contact

* * *

**"Ratchet, a moment?"** a gentle, near-monotone voice made the CMO look up from his exam of their newest human resident.

"Oh, hello dear. You must be Perceptor," the tiny, white-haired Latina spoke up before Ratchet was able. "I can see in your spark and colors how curious a scientist you are - like your brother, but also so very different." The sun-weathered, heavily wrinkled face grinned and held out her hand toward the new addition to Med Bay. She had insisted on removing her clothing for her exam, even though Ratchet had said it was completely unnecessary, and then had teased him that he was prudish of seeing an old lady in the nude. Needless to say, Ratchet was reaching the end of his notoriously short patience.

"Hello," the relatively small, heavily armored red mech extended a hand to greet her in return on reflex. "Yes, I am. You know my brother?"

"I saw the one I assumed was him out on the tarmac. He was connected energetically to six different organics, none of whom are on the planet at the moment. Are you here to study me?"

"That would be Wheeljack," Perceptor confirmed. "Yes, I am to study you. How are you aware we have the same creator?"

She glanced at Ratchet who was now muttering to himself as he prepared a nanite solution to take care of some of her age-related physical ailments before she turned back toward Perceptor.

"Oh, that one is simple. Mirage gave me a history to read on the trip here, along with a list of all the mechs on base, so I already knew. But you both are connected energetically, though differently than a bonded pair like Mirage and Hound. I can see a form of kinship in your sparks, different from those poor twins, but also similar."

"Poor Twins?" Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "They're a menace!"

"Sunstreaker and Sideswipe do have unique ailments from being split-spark that are heavily exacerbated by their pre-programmed warrior base," Perceptor said. "They are actually quiet well controlled for what they are."

"You are far more fond of them than you let on, dear Ratchet, and no soul should have to live like that, though it is obvious they are managing quite well. I wonder if their spark will be able to rejoin at some point in this life or after, or whether the split will continue beyond." Corazon swung her naked legs back and forth off the berth as though she were a little girl, grinning up at the two mechs.

"Yes, well, it _is_ my function to keep the slaggars in operating order," Ratchet grumbled and handed her the nanite solution, mixed in orange juice rather than the tequila she had requested.

"Are you finished with her intake exam, Ratchet?" Perceptor looked up at the larger, heaver mech. "I would like to interview her before the surgery."

"I am finished ... and before you suggest it again, Corazon, no probings are in the plans at this time. I would be happy to indulge your curiosity once your socket is installed, but I am able to take all the readings I need from you remotely through my scanners. You may dress now. Would you like to speak with her here or back at your lab, Perceptor?"

"I'm going to hold you to that, doc," the elderly woman said sweetly. "I do so love medical exams."

"I believe that makes you nearly unique," Perceptor's barely fluctuating voice keyed up with his interest. "My lab is preferable."

Corazon slipped on her turquoise dress, cowboy boots, and hat, getting to her feet with surprising flexibility to confidently step onto the offered hand. "To your place, then, youngster. I'll see _you_ later, Ratchet."

"I'm sure you will," he grumbled at her as Perceptor walked away.

"Please tell me about these connections and information you can see in our sparks or in your own species," Perceptor began, honestly eager to hear about this unusual ability.

"I've seen it ever since I was a child," she responded easily as he took broad steps across the base. "I didn't always understand what I was seeing. I see colors in people, and around them, connecting them to people, animals, even objects, whether it is a physical, spiritual, or emotional connection...all of it is energy. Sometimes, when I look at someone's aura, at least that is what I call it, I have flashes of insight beyond their present connections and feelings - I can see bits of their past, and once in a great while, some glimpses of future. I have no idea how or why it happens, or why other humans don't have the same sense. To me, it is like any of my other senses, though perhaps even more keen. The older I get, the dimmer my physical senses become, the more vivid it is."

"Fascinating. What to you perceive of me?" he asked, eager for insight into what she saw compared to what he was aware of.

Corazon shut her eyes for a moment.

"You are difficult to read, sonny. Other than connections, it is mostly emotions that I see. Your emotions ... they are there, but they do not run nearly as hot as many around here. So many here are bundles of barely contained grief, rage, or weariness - darkness under a thin surface of light. You are cool, balanced, serenely compassionate, but toward all life in general and not so much toward individuals.

"You have very little anger, and above all, intensely curiosity about _everything_. Your joy is in discovery, but it is a very different kind of joy than others experience - serene, calm, cool, a delight in logic found in what is seemingly chaos. It is not only your programming, it is your spark. You are connected deeply to one here, and another connection is forming, and you are uncertain what it means for you or even how to feel about it."

She paused for yet another moment. "You wish to have offspring - to create a spark. You wonder if being a creator will awaken more emotion in you."

The entire time Perceptor watched her, his fascination and elation growing with every statement.

"What you say would indicate that what I experience is normal for me and unlikely to change," he said in a tone that contained the mixture of awe, amazement and acceptance few could hear.

"I am glad I can read you. I am still figuring out what everything means with your kind. Your souls are different ... easier to see, but far more complex in many cases. We are a much younger species, obviously, and only a few of the human souls I see have been around longer than our species has."

"Your kind reincarnates routinely?" Perceptor asked as they entered a building on the far edge of the main complex, past warning signs and blast shields.

"As far as I can tell, yes, as does yours. I have theories about it, but they will have to wait until I can ask our makers," she gave a chuckle. "Much of my own curiosity will need to wait until then."

Perceptor stopped, his hand raised to type in the access code to his laboratory.

"Sparks come back _regularly_?" he stared at her, his optics widening slightly and his EM field flaring in the shock of a fundamental shaking of his beliefs.

"Well, at least as far as I can tell, toots. I've only seen those on base who were on the tarmac. Perhaps those who are inclined to survive the trauma of war are also the old ones. The _only_ one I've seen on this base that is on his first go around is Jazz."

She patted his chest endearingly. "Wouldn't it be amazing to be able to remember?"

"It would be fascinating," he murmured, billions of calculations being rerun in his processors with the new theory. "Can you tell if they were bonded to a different spark before? Or if they bonded to the same one again?"

She thought about what she had seen, the connections between the bonded pair, the fact that Jazz and Prowl's was visibly more complex. But there was nothing she could identify about previous bonds.

"I can only see existing bonds. Jazz and Prowl's is visibly different than the others, but I don't know what that means," she said as she took in Perceptor's lab. It was pristine, ordered, and a serenely peaceful space, just like him.

"Both are quite different from most," Perceptor said easily and set her down on a tabletop before picking up a datapad, beginning to record. "I cannot say I am surprised that they look different to you. How many humans with your ability are currently alive, to your knowledge?"

Corazon tucked her legs underneath her, took off her cowboy hat and ran her fingers through her silver-white hair as she considered his question.

"I know there must be others, because my teacher was one, and the skill exists in curandera lore, as well as the lore of other shamanic figures. The other curanderas I know are all herbalists, empathetic listeners, healers of a sort, but do not have the sight. There are many mediums and psychics who claim it, but I have yet to meet one who actually has the gift. My teacher said that we who have it do not need to boast of it. People will seek us out, and that has always been true. I could _see_ the gift in my teacher, as I can _see_ it in my granddaughter. I have seen hints of it in others, but not full blown."

"Have you ever known one with limited ability increase it with training?" he asked, writing quickly with a stylus on the pad. "Does it follow in family lines, or appear largely at random?"

Corazon watched as he wrote, a smile in her eyes, enjoying talking about her abilities with someone who took the gift seriously from a scientific standpoint. She hadn't lost all of her mischief, but for the moment, she was content to put it aside.

"My own abilities were quite limited at first, or at least I didn't understand them. My training increased my skills. Alicia has the potential, but has never developed it. She intends to train with me now, so you will be able to monitor her progress. And yes, it appears to be inherited. In my family's case, it passes along to women on the paternal line. I am the first in four generations with the gift because there were no surviving daughters for several generations."

Perceptor paused and considered her curiously. "So only females can manifest the ability, but it is only passed on through the males?"

"In my family, yes. I have heard of male shamans who have had the gift, though. But in my culture, those with the true sight have always been women, at least according to our lore. Now, there were no daughters for several generations before mine, so the real test would be to see if Alicia were to have a daughter with the gift, whether she could pass it on. What do _you_ make of all of this, youngster?"

"It is fascinating, and quite unusual. So far you are claiming to perceive things that we cannot, however it is all energy that we do know exists." He considered her. "If we can understand the mechanism of your vision, we may be able to build sensors that will enable us to see as you do. It would be a great boon to science and to our society to expand our knowledge of such things. So much grief could be avoided with the proper application of being able to read sparks and connections."

"For all that I'm a witch, I don't believe in magic, sweetie, if by magic people mean something that bends the rules of the physical universe. I think that all of my gifts are in the physical realm, just dealing with parts we humans haven't discovered yet. I'll be mighty interested to find out what you learn. My theory's always been that it's a sense in the human brain, but needs a key to be unlocked. The key is must be somewhere in my DNA."

Corazon's eyes twinkled, once again the randy old trickster. "How will you go about figuring this out? I hope it involves a socket connection and some lovely deep probing of my mind. I do get so excited about the probing part."

"Have you always been so amorous?" he cocked his head slightly. "Perhaps you are related to Shekat in some way. Though you talk while she acts."

She cackled and reached up and patted the mech on the chest. "I'll let you in on a secret, dear. Every female of my species is amorous, perhaps even more than the males. We are always ready for more. But we're taught early on to deny it, to save it for some Prince Charming who never comes along, to equate pleasure with true love and believe we shouldn't have one without the other." She patted him again and curled back up on her wiry, wrinkled legs.

"I'm too old for such games, and I enjoy shocking the youngsters. Even with Ratchet's interventions, I have perhaps 5-10 more years? Unless someone wants to claim an old hag like me. I intend to enjoy every second of it."

"I understand, though I would calculate you would have roughly fifty years as an unclaimed socket," he said calmly. "If you make it known you are inclined to be claimed, I have no doubt you will find yourself the subject of interest by many mechs. While aesthetics do play a role, most are far more attracted to the energy of a being when selecting a socket. The drive to have sparklings has put a strong imperative on claiming a strong socket for many couples as well."

"And that is a wonderful thing, my good mech, because it is the energy in others that I find lovely as well, and there is amazing energy on this base. I got to watch my granddaughter share with her mechs - it was the most lovely thing I've ever seen on the energetic level. It is as though she has bloomed into a flower that will not fade ... at least not for a long, long while."

"Not an inaccurate statement," Perceptor almost smiled. "What can you tell about a person or object when you study them?"

Corazon played with a long silver lock of hair as she pondered and then answered the scientist. "For people, I can tell their emotional state, who they are connected with, the nature of that connection - romantic, sexual, friendship, hate, anger. I can tell, as I said, whether their soul is old or young, if it is damaged. I can tell much about their physical, mental, even spiritual health by the state of their aura. I'm not sure what this would mean to a scientist, but I can often identify their animal familiar, or whether they have some other sort of spirit guide or connection. For objects, I can sense their connections to people - for instance I could see Mirage and Hound's connection with their hardlight avatars, and knew that those forms were not alive in the same way they were."

"Fascinating," Perceptor murmured, excited enough that his EM field flickered in a small dance. "Can you tell anything about the nature of a soul's damage?"

"Have you read the Harry Potter novels?" she asked with a laugh. "That Rowling girl was really on to something when she wrote that murder tears apart ones soul. It truly does, creates gaps, fissures, places where darkness can creep in and find a long-term home. But not only murder. Any unprocessed pain or grief can do long term damage. One of my jobs as a curandera is to help folks come to terms with damaging events and memories. You have a base full of damaged souls, dear, but I'm sure you are all aware of it. A soul can never be completely destroyed, but the damage can be very severe. Most of it's self inflicted, but it can also be inflicted by others."

She thought about the thousands of tiny lights trying to escape from Jazz's spark and shivered.

"Yes, the war has been long and brutal," a small sound escaped his vents and he reached our to stroke her hair lightly. "It has not been uncommon to hear a mech state that the extinguished are the lucky ones. Yet for those of us who have survived, we are in a time of great hope again, no matter the damage we bear. We may finally have the time and resources to begin to heal as a people."

"No one is beyond the possibility of healing, even if it is simply learning to live with ones damage," she smiled and patted the long, thin finger that was stroking her with an almost maternal look. "So, tell me about this connection you have with the mech with the sword?"

His field flared again, as hot as it ever had. "His designation is Drift. He is courting me, I believe. I am not sure why, now that I have returned to the sciences."

Corazon felt his field, and it made her shiver again with pleasure. "Because you will not let the past and what he has been affect how you view him now. That is the nature of your logic and compassion. And it makes sense for one who has killed so many to be attracted to someone whose value is in learning and discovery rather than destruction. He wants what you would give to any sparks you create, the reason for functioning beyond the war and vengeance."

A shadow flickered across his features and his spark, memories and grief too fresh not to hurt, but already dimming from acceptance. Right on the grief's heals was a flicker of hope.

"You do not believe he desires the sniper he took as a lover?" he asked, a subtle hint of uncertainty in his voice. "He met the warrior, not the scientist."

"He desires _you_, whatever your current function," she said softly, looking closely at the connection between the two. "But in the scientist he sees not just one who is a lover, but one who can be a bondmate and creator. There is a strong desire to create life in what connects you, and in that way, you are an ideal match. Your uncertainty about yourself is the only thing preventing this connection from becoming much deeper."

Perceptor hummed thoughtfully and filed that to run as a second priority analysis. "I will consider this. Can you tell how many times a spark has been sent to live ... can you see the spark Jazz is carrying?"

She thought for a moment, recalling her short time on the tarmac. Her short-term memory was not the best any longer. But even though she could not recall everything that was said, if she focused, she could recall what her sight had seen in vivid detail.

"I could see the new spark, but it had no sentience, no identity of its own. It registered only as energy connected to Jazz, Prowl, and even to their young man, but not as a person, not yet.

"As to the age of others, I cannot tell exactly how many times. Perhaps with time and study I could learn to read sparks as I can souls. What I can see is that some are very old, like Optimus, Prowl, the small yellow mech with the little wings, even the twins. Some have only come a few times - the large black mech with the cannons, for instance. And some, like you, Ratchet, your brother, and your lover are somewhere in between."

Perceptor hummed again, though his field rippled excitedly at the information no one had ever thought existed, of an _idea_ that had never existed before.

"Can you tell what caused the damage in a given spark?"

Corazon shook her head. "I haven't _looked_ that closely. Even though I can see a lot, I also deliberately don't see things, especially those secrets. Some things, like colors and connections I can't help but to see. I have to look deep to see the damage. With the people I've helped, usually I see the damage, and sometimes the cause because of broken relationship connections. But what I do is to help them figure out what has caused it, how to heal it or live with it. I haven't done that with one of your kind yet. I can try, if someone is willing. I don't have any special ability to heal a soul. People do that themselves in a way, I just guide them along the way."

Perceptor nodded thoughtfully. "Yours is a skill that has been long lost among our kind," he said softly. "Medics of all kinds were targeted during the war. They were lost almost as completely as the nobles and priests. Even Ratchet, gifted as he is, is as much a soldier as he is a healer. I would assess that much of the damage you can see is there because we have no one who knows how to heal. Smokescreen does his best, but it was never more than a tertiary function for him." He barely held back that several mechs would willingly claim her simply to keep her skill alive for an extra vorn or two. "It would be a valuable experiment to conduct, to see if you can assist one of us, or teach us how to help ourselves."

The old witch smiled, seeing more in his colors than she let on. "It would mean a lot to me to help the people who mean so much to my granddaughter. You are her people now, as much or more than humanity ever has been."

He smiled faintly. "We consider her one of us. Sockets are very important, not just to the mech who claims them, but to all of us." He reached out to stroke her hair, then her back. "Now, perhaps I can probe your body to explore how your responses compare to younger females?"

Corazon gave a hearty laugh at his suggestion, affectionately patting his long finger.

"Querido, I thought you would never ask. It takes a little longer to stoke my fire, but I run hot if a lover has the patience. Do you have a thing for older women? Of course, I'm just a jovencita to you."

"Yet you call me the young one," a small smile played across his features, her playful nature drawing out what little playfulness he had. "I can not say I have ever considered it," he admitted, fingers designed to manipulate things far smaller that her exploring and stroking her body. "I do have patience."

"Everyone seems young to me, querido. Even you old ones, and on one level, I have come back many more times than you...not that it has gained me the wealth of experience one of your lifetimes would."

She sighed and lay back, allowing his graceful hands to play along her body and slip off her turquoise dress. She was utterly comfortable in her own skin, having lived in it so long. She had cared well for her body, considered it a good friend. Her wrinkles were as much from the sun as from her age, and to her, they were marks of a life well enjoyed.

_I'm still full of life_, she thought as his touches slowly roused her. Not the hot fire of youth, but more like the coals after a fire burns out - gray on the outside, but still red hot under the ash of time.

Her own hand absentmindedly brushed her chest where she had lost a breast to cancer 30 years earlier. She had always told Alicia and Esperanza that it made her look like an amazon warrior, and she said the same to Perceptor simply to watch how he would respond to the allusion.

His optics unfocused, though his hands and cables did not slow their exploration and gentle arousal. "A fascinating practice, if they existed and did so."

She grinned at him and put her hands behind her head to better watch his exploration as one of his fingers slid between her legs, vibrating slightly. It has been long...far too long since another had touched her like this. She'd had partners, but old men were almost more impatient than young ones, inwardly afraid it was their last time and trying to get themselves off as quickly as they could lest they accidentally had a heart attack before they came.

"Do you know why you only had one child?" Perceptor asked as he teased the folds concealing her clit with a finger while his other hand continued to caress her skin.

She shivered and pressed herself up against his touch, pleased at how her body could still respond, still feel so good with the right attention.

"I didn't marry my son's father. Being the only curandera with the sight in all the Southwest and Northern Mexico did not leave me much time for a family. He'd long had a crush on me, and I felt sad for him when he was drafted. I was normally more careful, but I slept with him before he was shipped off to fight in the Battle of the Bulge, and he was dead before his son was born. I ... wasn't as attentive of a mother as I should have been. My mind was on my work and I often failed to see the brokenness in my own son, or to give it the same attention I gave to those I worked to heal. I knew I should not have another."

She closed her eyes, lost for the moment in memory.

"My son knocked up and married Esperanza right before he was drafted to Vietnam. When he came home, he was a broken man. I tried to help him, but he wouldn't let me. He drank too much and eventually took off. Died a few years later in an accident - he was drunk."

"Too much focus on the present than the future," Perceptor murmured. His head turned slightly to look behind him, though his fingers did not pause their efforts to arouse her. "Greetings Drift. What do you require?"

A tiny smile crossed the samurai's features as he stepped closer. "I require nothing, Perceptor. I came to see if you had your energon today."

"Oh," a bright smile flashed across the scientist's features, only to have them fall to a moan of pleasure as Drift slid a finger around the rim of Perceptor's light cannon.

"Hello Drift," Corazon said with a warm smile as she watched the colors of their auras interact with one another, mingle, and strengthen their connection.

"Good afternoon, Corazon," Drift inclined his head to her, his fingers continuing to play with his lover's light cannon as he watched Perceptor pleasure her. "You have caused a great deal of excitement among the scientists here. Your energy is quiet strong for a body so old."

"So I've been told ... OH," Corazon suddenly closed her eyes and moaned. Drift's touches seemed to bring out a new mood in Perceptor, who had leaned down to taste her. She could feel the energy they spoke of pulsing in her, could see it if she focused. In her mind's eye, she was no longer an aged body, close to her end, but a human shaped light, surrounded by colors, brighter spots at her chakras that were swirling, receiving energy and sending it out, nearly strong enough to reach the two sparks above her without the connection, but not quite.

"She is _bright_," Drift's voice rumbled above her in unmistakable desire before whispering something in their own language that made Perceptor shudder. "Pretty one, would you like to experience a proper spiking?"

"A proper spiking!" Corazon cackled, "Is that what the muchachos are calling it these days? As long as you think my ticker can take it. Of course ... even if my ticker can't take it, it would be a good way to go."

Corazon grinned wide at the two mechs, spreading her legs suggestively.

Perceptor raised an optic ridge at her, pausing look up several terms and association, before Drift chuckled softly and turned the red mech's head by the chin to kiss him soundly. It thoroughly distracted the scientist from thinking about anything other than pleasure.

Despite it taking attention off her for a moment, watching and feeling the way the lovers' energy fields flared and mingled during the kiss, finally locking into an interconnected mesh, was enticing in its own right. The sounds Perceptor made were sexy as well. When they parted, Perceptor focused on her once more and offered his hands. "A berth is better for interfacing."

"What a gentleman!" Corazon grinned, climbing confidently onto his hands. "Not taking me on your desk the first time. If only all of those who propositioned me were so polite." The elderly woman sat cross-legged in the scientist's hand, looking strangely like a little girl. The colors that were whirling around her in the mechs' still enmeshed fields was enchantingly different.

"Ratchet is also notoriously ill-tempered with those who are injured while interfacing," Perceptor said as he walked towards a small back room intended for him to recharge without leaving his lab, but was far more often used by Drift to recharge, or the pair for pleasure.

"I tend to break some of his more delicate components when we hit the floor," Drift rumbled, his hands ghosting down the large flat panel of Perceptor's chest, causing the scientist to shudder with silent but bright desire.

"I imagine you do," Corazon said with a laugh, watching the wildly violent yet self-controlled colors pulsating in the Samurai mech. A keen sense of justice, desire for peace even though he was, at spark, extremely violent, and willingness to do _anything_ it took to achieve the world he wanted for his future sparklings. He was all but transparent in his desire for Perceptor to be the one who created that future with him.

With a mechanical sound of pleasure, Perceptor sat on the berth, then laid back so Corazon could sit comfortably on his chest. Drift knelt by the side of the berth, one arm by Perceptor's head, supporting him, as he leaned down to kiss his lover. His other hand slid between the scientist's legs to scrape claws against the interface panel.

"Open up, let her ride you," Drift whispered loud enough for her to hear as Perceptor shuddered and retracted the panel.

Corazon trembled, her sharp wit fleeing in the face of what was to come. She regretted for a moment that she didn't have the socket installed yet. Watching her energy flow into the scientist's living soul would have been breathtaking. Her body ached to be filled, no less now than when she had been young. She was just more choosy with age.

She touched herself, hoping she would be slick. It was one way in which her body did not cooperate well any longer.

Perceptor moaned, his body tensing under her. She glanced towards his groin and smiled to see Drift sliding fingers in and out of Perceptor's body. The slick sound was similar to sex, but with a metallic addition. After a few thrusts the white mech pulled his fingers out, drawing a sound of objection from Perceptor that was ignored. He brought his fingers up to her.

"This should be slick enough," Drift smiled at her, his energy hot and raging, wanting loose but tightly reigned in for now.

She felt her body tense and her toes curl in anticipation and Drift began to spread the ample lubricant around her folds, and then sliding one slender finger slowly inside to coat her clenching passage. He removed the first finger, then slid the other in.

The curandera sighed in pleasure, her hands gripping gaps in the armor underneath her, drawing appreciative sounds from its owner. She relaxed as Drift removed his finger only to slide them both between her legs to support her as she was lifted and set down within arm's reach of Perceptor's human-sized but not very human-looking red phallus.

With the energy of a woman a quarter of her age, she launched herself at the sensitive, malleable metal, encircling it with hands that had a lifetime of experience, sucking on the tip and sliding her tongue into the slit, all the while watching to see what it would do to the colors of the calm scientist who as not nearly as calm any longer.

His voice echoed his colors; a sharp, wordless cry of pleasure that rippled through his aura and EM field as strongly as the mechanical static rippled through his voice. She watched as Drift slowly slid two fingers into Perceptor not far below her, drawing another rush of desire from the scientist.

She wanted to _feel_ what he was feeling. She was so close, could sense so much from him. She felt hot, hotter than she had in so long. Her normally cold hands were sweating as she stroked him, the buzz of his energy field all around her further igniting her body and mind with desire. She watched in fascination and lust as Drift scissored his fingers in the scientist's valve, eliciting a sharp cry.

Meeting the Samurai mech's optics, she lifted herself to slide on to Perceptor, his own lubricant smoothing the way. Drift got the point and sheathed himself in his lover right after. Perceptor's response was a strangled, static-heavy cry as his backstrut arched and delicate hands gripped the berth tightly.

**"Yesss!"** he hissed, gripping the spike inside him and thrusting up into the organic heat above him.

"You will be fighting mechs off with energy like that," Drift rumbled, pleasure tightening his vocalizer as he thrust in time with her movements. His field danced and flickered in time with Perceptor's pleasure as much as his own.

Corazon could not respond in words, only with a serene smile as she reveled in both the physical act and whirl of colorful energies around her. When one of Perceptor's cables found her nub to caress in time with his thrusts, she cried out, her heart bursting with happiness that her body could still respond this way, with aliens of all people!

Without warning Drift changed his angle, causing Perceptor to keen sharply, the sound quickly leaving her hearing range as the new contact pushed him close to overload. His circuits tingled with extra energy, pushing nearly all his analytical protocols to the back of his processors as he briefly lost himself in the moment.

Remembering something that Alicia had told her, Corazon dug her fingers into the wires and tubing in the joints between Perceptor's legs and torso, enjoying the way his energy flowed in the heat of the moment, so much more emotion swirling in his colors. It was becoming more difficult to concentrate. She closed her eyes to await the results, wanting to only see the colors of the energy and nothing physical, even as their physical selves reached climax.

Another shift behind her as Drift reached his limit and roared, slamming into Perceptor and leaning forward to put that much more force behind it. His EM field pushed into his lovers hard and deep, needing to feel the pleasure pushing back into him, needing to _know_, to _feel_ that the overload wasn't just his.

The hard thrusts into the scientist's valve pushed his spike just that much harder into the ancient curandera. "Mama Maria!" she cried out as her own energy flared. It seemed almost criminal that it didn't flow into the bright sparks she could see in her mind's eye - so powerful, yet so hungry.

It was all more than enough to drive Perceptor over the edge, his energy rippling out from him, flowing over and through Drift's, entwining with it, pulling as much as pushing as their overloads mingled outside the mech's control.

Sound, energy and touch mingled into a single explosive moment where none of them were fully aware of anything but the ecstasy that washed through them and between them.

"Wow," Corazon whispered as she came back to herself. "I haven't seen it so vibrant since Alex Martinez in the 10th grade. Those soldiers shipping off to Europe, who'd never been laid, had amazing energy."

"I'm sure they did," Perceptor smiled at her, his energy already settling into his normal, sedate pattern, though there was a softness to it as he reached up to stroke Drift's angular features.

"Will this be your typical experimental day with her?" Drift nearly purred, pressing into the contact with little inclination to separate their chassis just yet.

Perceptor smiled faintly. "I believe so. There is so much to learn from her."

"And so much to learn from you." Corazon pulled herself gently off of Perceptor's spike, knowing that if she stayed in one position for too long, she would have trouble getting out of it. "You two are adorable together. Life is short. You should get on with it," she winked at them, audacious as ever. "I'd love to see what a new little spark's energy looks like."

"Jazz, Shimmerfire and Bumblebee are carrying now," Perceptor suggested, somewhat missing the point, which only brought a tolerantly amused look from his lover.

"Perhaps you will be there for the creation of one," Drift suggested with a small smile and reluctantly pulled out of Perceptor, unsubspacing several cloths for them to clean themselves.

"Oh, that would be marvelous. I imagine Hound, Mirage and my Alicia will try again soon, but I doubt I will be up close and personal for that one."

"Most likely," Drift agreed, drawing a soft series of clicks from Perceptor as he cleaned his lover's valve and now full-sized spike. "Sideswipe will try with Prime again. I have heard that Silver Shadow and Starjumper have approached him as well."

"It would be so fascinating to watch the energy flow as a new spark is created, and to figure out when it becomes sentient. My daughter-in-law is a midwife, and I've had a chance to observe the developing energy of a fetus, to see when it appears to have a life-force or soul of its own. Human conception is amazing energetically as well." Corazon curled on her side on the surprisingly comfortable heat of Perceptor's chest plates.

"According to Jazz and the Seekers, the spark becomes sentient between third and half way to term. That is also the point when aborting becomes a significant risk for the carrier," Perceptor explained. "Until then, it seems that the energy can be reabsorbed by the carrying spark with limited chance for harm."

"I wonder how that works," Corazon eyes shifted up as she thought about what kind of energetic process would give a 'soul' to a person or a spark. "I'd give anything to watch the exact moment it was happening, or at least to be able to see if it was a slow process or something immediate. How long did you say mechs carry? Perhaps I will live long enough to watch the process."

"If you are not claimed, you should live long enough to see Jazz's sparkling," Perceptor said smoothly, watching with hungry optics as Drift cleaned himself up. "If you are claimed, you are likely to be alive for the separation and framing of everyone kindled in the next vorn. Not even the young sockets are likely to see any of them upgrade from sparkling to youngling, though."

"My granddaughter may very well make it that long, if I'm reading what I see in her correctly. Her dedication to her lovers' sparks borders on religious."

"Possible, though not probable," Perceptor acknowledged. "If she lives a very long time and their first sparkling upgrades quickly, she may witness it."

"Perceptor, you turned your comm off again," Drift interrupted. "Ratchet wants her back."

"He wants me? That pretty young thing's not giving him enough?" She gave her classic cackle of a laugh.

"Oh, I'm giving him more than he knows how to deal with, but I like the _trouble_ you give him. You certainly have my blessing to give him more of that," a female voice said, peaking in from the lab. "Ratchet sent me to collect his patient."

"Ratchet is not one to keep waiting," Perceptor said and picked her up as he shifted to stand and walk to his desk where her clothing was.

She quickly dressed and was then lowered to Mikaela. "Let's walk, sweetie. I need to work out the new kinks they gave me." She turned back toward the two mechs and gave a wide grin. "Looking forward to your next experiment, youngster. Those folks down in Roswell have got nothin' on me now when it comes to probings." 


	2. Games with Planes:  CorazonxAerialbots

**Fandom**: Transformers Bayverse  
**Author**: gatekat and femme4jack on LJ  
**Pairing**: Silverbolt/Skydive/Fireflight/Slingshot/Air Raid/Corazon Rodriguez  
**Rating**: NC-17 mech/mech/female  
**Codes**: Slash, Het, Xeno (Transformer/Human), Gestalt-cest, Mechsmut, Holoform smut  
**Summary**: Corazon can't resist the fascination of a gestalt, even one too young to need organic energy yet.  
**Notes**: klik = 1 minute, breem = 8.3 minutes; joor = 1.2 hours; orn = day/32 joor; metacycle = 6 (5.9285) years; vorn = 83 years/14 metacycle  
Written in the Dathanna de Gray fanverse (community .livejournal .com/ tf_socket_fics)  
Written for aughoti . dreamwidth . org , who won femme4jack's auction on community .livejournal .com/help_japan for her prompt "Tequila and High Grade" with Corazon in DdG.

This story references chapter 4 of Outside Eyes.

We've changed the title of "Science the Witch" to the "Witch of Diego Garcia", a set of one shots in which Corazon interacts with, and helps out mechs and sockets around the island.

**"text"** translated Cybertronian.  
"text" organic languages  
~text~ bond/hardline talk  
::text:: comm chatter

#Spanish translations:#  
_Curandera_ - a traditional witch, herbalist, or midwife. Curanderos/as still are common today in Northern New Mexico (setting of Alicia and Corazon's home town), other parts of the United States Southwest and Mexico.  
_Mijo or mija_ - shortened form of mi hijo or mi hija, a term of endearment for a child or someone younger than yourself.  
_¡Dios Mio!_ - My God!  
_La Virgen_ - The Virgin (Mary)  
_chichi_ - slang for breast  
_Huevos_ - eggs (slang for testicles)  
_Cojones_ - slang for testicles  
_Pajarito_ - little bird  
_Muchacho/a_ - young man/woman  
_¡Ejoles!_ - a word of exasperation, distress, exclamation, expressed typically via a Mexican grandmother (urban dictionary).  
_Bruja_ - witch

* * *

The Witch of Diego Garcia 2: Games with Planes

* * *

When Corazon Rodriguez had "known" one too many things she shouldn't have as a 5-year old girl, she had been apprenticed to Luciana Cordova, the elderly curandera who lived in Ojo Zarco. It was a twenty minute drive from Truchas if they borrowed uncle Mateo's Chevy, so most of the time, she stayed at Luciana's little two-room adobe house, close to the sacred blue hot spring whose waters the tiny, bent witch used for her potions.

Corazon had missed her mother and father, but they, to be honest, had been a bit relieved to have her gone.

It was _awkward_ when one's daughter somehow knew that when papa and their neighbor Stefano, went up to the highlands, it wasn't just to round up the cattle and bring them down to the valley for the winter, and that her mother and Stefano's wife, Rosa, enjoyed the times when their men were gone just as much. This was not something one wanted spoken about anywhere a neighbor or Padre Luna might hear about it.

It was _very_ awkward when ones daughter told Padre Luna, to his face, at _Mass_, that La Virgen was actually a goddess, and that the baby Jesus was praying at his mama's breasts.

It was even _more_ awkward that when she told that same priest that she knew exactly which children in the parish were from his huevos, and she was right.

So the little girl had been taken to meet Luciana, who _knew_ immediately that she was going to be the finest, feistiest curandera Rio Ariba county had ever known.

Corazon was 9 years old when she saw her first "talkie". She and Luciana had made the trek to Santa Fe so the curandera could be at the deathbed of an elderly colleague. After they had done what they could to make the old woman comfortable, Luciana had given the girl a quarter and sent her off to explore, wanting some time alone with the dying witch.

So Corazon had made her way to the famous Lensic theater, which was showing _Tarzan Escapes_, and, more importantly, the first episode of the Flash Gordon serial as the matinee that day.

Even though the girl's English was not very good, when Corazon left her first talkie that day, she knew many more things.

She _knew_ that some day her granddaughter, whose mother had not even been conceived yet, would travel through space and would walk on another world.

She _knew_ that some day she, herself, was going to not only meet aliens, but she was going to live with them, and they'd take her to see the rings of Saturn.

She _knew_ that in her own lifetime, everything they assumed they knew would change.

When she told Luciana about the vision, the older woman had laughed and ruffled her hair. Then she said something very strange.

"You don't have to travel to space to meet aliens, mija. They've been around since before our kind, and may be on this planet long after we're gone. You know that dam they just finished in Nevada? The one that is strangling the El Rio Colorado?"

"Hoover Dam - they showed it on the newsreel at the talkie," the girl answered.

"It isn't just there to make electricity, mija. There is something inside. Something that changed us all, while we were still swinging by our tails in the jungle."

"Father Luna says we aren't supposed to talk about coming from monkeys," Corazon warned.

"Father Luna also thinks that women are supposed to make babies to say we are sorry that Eva wanting to learn about the world," the curandera said harshly, and then laughed at the priest.

Corazon, now 83 and living among aliens, grinned and cackled out loud herself as she thought about that day when she saw her first talkie. She looked around at the multitude of aliens and humans gathered for Hang 10's evening feature film, and felt, strangely, like she was looking at her kids, for all that many of the aliens had tens of thousands, if not millions of years on her. They still were like children to her - hurting, grieving, confused, playful, curious, sometimes cynical children who were figuring out their own souls and how to be people and not just war machines.

Someone was on an old movie kick, because for the last several nights, they'd shown old serials before the feature film, and tonight's just so happened to be the first episode of Flash Gordon.

She shook her head and sat back to watch - not the film, but the bright-souled, metal people who were paying various degrees of attention to it. Watching their sparks and the multitude of connections between them was as enchanting as watching a field of fireflies or a meteor shower. She just couldn't stop looking.

Jazz and Prowl were there, each spark nearly as old as the other's, though one had lived a dozen lifetimes or more, while the other had lived just the one very, very long one. And now, Jazz was carrying. It was just a speck of energy similar to, but not exactly like his, orbiting the dark-centered star that was Jazz's spark.

It would never cease to amuse her how much the other residents would giggle and give the two mechs looks when they behaved like a normal couple. Right now Jazz was curled up on Prowl's lap, far more interested in touching his mate than the movie.

Her gaze flicked to the entrance when a new mech walked in. Matte black and small like his 'mother', or carrier, as they called it - and wasn't _that_ a secret around here! - Whiplash glided through the shadows as ink through black water until he settled near two bonded femmes he was closely related to through Jazz - another major secret! The three leaned close, their spark resonances reaching out to sooth each other from some trauma. The four kin-mechs were a fascinating lot. The two who chose to identify as 'males', or mechs, both had active darkness in the core of their sparks, while the two 'females' or femmes had only the darkness and damage that came with their lives and being raised by those who knew far more darkness than they did. If she lived that long, it would be fascinating to see if the little spark Jazz carried, with the trace of darkness in the center, would be another mech or if the difference was from another cause.

Then there were her granddaughter's mechs. Hound, who was as in balance with his spark as anyone on the island, and Mirage, who was so torn up inside it would take a _mech's_ lifetime for him to heal. It pained her to see so much hurt in one who wasn't ready. She wanted to help him so much, for her granddaughter's sake if nothing else, but while he'd listen to her, answer her questions and _knew_ what she was going to say for the most part, he still placed himself too far below his duties to find any balance. The incredibly strong link to Jazz was the likely cause too, she had no doubt. The lithe, dark-sparked mech had strong bonds with many mechs here, of many kinds, but among the strongest were those who were in servitude to him and those who hated him. It would worry her if the two very strongest links were not ones of deep love with Prowl and Prime.

Yet, from what she could see of the twisting paths of past and future, most, if not all of those on base would not be alive were it not for the dark-sparked mech.

What she had not told anyone yet was the connections she could see between the sparks around her and what she could only call 'the beyond', the realm of those who no longer inhabited their frames, as well as the powers of creation and destruction embodied in their gods.

Jazz's connection with the source of his darkness was nearly severed, while the connection with the source of his light was strong, full of fear on Jazz's part, but it was a connection nonetheless, and affected him more than he would possibly wish to know.

His adult creation had no such strong connection to the light, but he also had a minimal connection to the darkness. The bond to his carrier and the two femmes were the defining points in his path.

Her musings were distracted by the appearance of a couple so full of _life_ it was nearly blinding. On a base where both human and mech were beaten down by war and loss, these two had somehow missed most of that. Skyfire was different from the last time she'd seen him; his spark larger, the energy in his frame more intense but less controlled and utterly focused on the smaller white mech with him. White light reached out to the beyond from Skyfire in dozens of strands that were making tentative connections with lives lost long ago.

She couldn't help beaming at the two. The smaller, Wheeljack, she was given to understand, was the reason that the socket bonds existed in the first place, and those interfacing upgrades that felt so good. She needed to thank him!

Perhaps she could talk them into letting her help when they kindled, since it was more than obvious that the two were planning to create new life.

Speaking of new life ... her gaze drifted to Blaster where the incredibly complex web of connections he had his symbiot family was utterly blazing along with the new spark close to his own. The tiny light was now making connections of its own with many of the symbiots. Not enough that any of them likely knew it, but definitely there.

She wondered if she should tell them; it would certainly give them a sense of hope. Then again, even she could not tell if the connections were those of a host with its symbiots, or simply the connections between closely related kin. The symbiots had, after all, been involved in the kindling, at least as far as Mikaela had described when she and Alicia had gossiped about the experience.

Attention was drawn back to Jazz when there was a flare of energy between him and one of the two humans nestled close to the bonded pair. It was still a curiosity to her. Among the humans claimed by bonded mechs, Amelia was the first not to be claimed by both. Her connection with Prowl was tenuous, almost completely through Jazz, and she had only the weakest connection to Miles. Yet her connection to Jazz was nearly as strong as his was with Prowl, and the protective energy that _radiated_ off Jazz had mechs and humans alike giving her a wide berth.

The odd thing was, his connection with Prowl and Miles was clearly love. It was not the same with the journalist. She loved him, obviously, and though it had the normal flavors of eroticism that colored all the mech-socket relationships, Jazz's feelings for her could be described as a painfully strong need for unconditional, maternal acceptance. It made her wonder what his relationship to his own 'mother' had been? Had he gotten the kind of acceptance that any living sentient would need as a sparkling from his carrier? What kind of carrier had he had? One like himself, or was he the first generation to be so torn apart and remade by the Unmaker? The story was he was the first, but it wasn't as if anyone but Jazz had been alive for it, and he was a master at inventing stories.

She wondered if she would ever have the cojones to ask him? He would not take too kindly to how much she knew just by looking at him. He, like so many struggling with darkness, was a secret keeper. The problem with secret keepers was that they were the easiest types for people like her to read, and that wasn't always a good thing for people like her.

She was tempted to look deeper at the organic who now had the dubious honor of being the confidant for the master of secrets, but her attention was suddenly torn by the entry of a group of five flyers with energetic connections that were different from any she'd watched so far. In some ways they were not as connected as bondmates like Mirage and Hound, and in othes they were far more intimately tied. She knew the human name that Cybertronians had given the relationship, _gestalt_, but she was still only beginning to work out just _what_ that meant to her.

They were five distinct individuals with connections that were more like those of siblings than lovers, though clearly they were all lovers as well.

She almost giggled. They were like ... a flock. The movements of one affected the movements of all, a clear pecking order, the other alpha personalities constantly jockeying to see who was the best, who should be one top. It was an incredible contrast to the mech and two humans who were so closely bound to Jazz.

Yet she'd also seen them united, combined to become Superion. Then they became one being with five tightly linked sparks; they became a single mind at the sacrifice of their independent existence.

The Aerialbots did not appear to be planning to stay. She watched as they each grabbed 2-3 cubes of Sideswipe's special brew that was being served that evening in celebration of something. It seemed that this crowd looked for any and every opportunity to celebrate now that the scattered mechs were being reunited in one place, with the promise of a near future in which the war was truly over.

Clearly the Aerials were planning on celebrating on their own, or at least outdoors where there was more room. Corazon made an instant decision and walked toward the leader of the group, the one with the most balanced spark of the five, Silverbolt.

"Hello, son," she said with a wide smile and instantly had the attention of all of them, along with a few of the nearby mechs. "Haven't had a chance to chat with you and your brothers yet. Would you mind if I join you, wherever you are taking that fancy high grade? I have some questions about gestalts, and Aerial culture that I was hoping you might answer."

Those nearby returned to what they were doing, which was generally some form of making out with a lover, while Silverbolt smiled warmly down at her. "You are welcome to join us, Corazon." He handed his cubes off to the others and knelt, somehow folding his fifty-foot height down to her level without transforming and offered his hand to her. "We were going to have a cube, go flying, and finish the evening in our hanger."

"That sounds lovely." She climbed onto his hand as though she'd been doing it her whole life, folding her surprisingly nimble legs under her and holding on to one of his fingers for balance as he stood smoothly, gears and hydraulics shifting and powering to keep her completely steady on the way up.

"Good," Silverbolt smiled at her, flicking his wings slightly before walking towards the door with the others following. "Do you mind if we ask you questions too? Rumor has it you know things no one can know."

"Oh, ask me anything you like, mijo," she grinned, pulling out her own bottle. "I brought my tequila along, and that _really_ loosens my tongue."

A round of snickers and grins passed between the Aerials as they left. Corazon saw Hound stopping Mirage and Alicia from getting up to follow, worry clear on her granddaughter's features before the doors closed.

"Can you really see what we can't remember?" Fireflight blurted out before they were five paces away from Hang 10.

"It depends on how hard I look, hon. I can see whether your sparks are older than your frames. Some of the connections I see may give hints about who you were before, and once in awhile I have a pretty clear vision about it."

"Cool," Skydive grinned. "What can you tell about us?"

Corazon closed her eyes, and began focusing on their connections with the past, as well as with the other life forms around them. What she began to see made her heart beat fast with excitement.

"Tell you what, mijos, let's find a place to sit and you can open up your high grade and I'll tell you. It ... it may be quite a surprise."

"A good surprise? Or a bad one?" Fireflight asked, sounding bewildered.

"I don't know if its good or bad, pajarito, it just is. But conversations about your past shouldn't happen while you are walking. I know that well enough. Get comfortable and we'll chat."

"All right," Silverbolt hushed the barrage of questions about to tumble from his brothers with a wing-twitch as their direction changed a bit, angling for their hanger on the edge of the original landing strips.

Though she could feel the tension and energy she'd generated lash back and forth as they spoke silently with each other, all five kept their vocalizers hushed until the door to their hanger was shut and everyone found their spot on a berth big enough for all five suspended near the ceiling. It required flight to reach, and it was impossible to miss how the group relaxed being off the ground.

"You have a nest!" she giggled, sounding more like a delighted little girl than the vorn-old woman that she was.

"We'd prefer an aerie, but this does in a pinch," Fireflight immediately cuddled into Air Raid and Skydive, while Slingshot kept himself slightly removed from the rest. Silverbolt, she noted with gentle amusement, took a protective, hovering position behind all of them, his wings spread wide. She felt tiny sitting in front of all of them. A mouse sitting with a flock of hawks, falcons and eagles, though they did not have a strong predatory feel.

"So, understand, I can't always tell details. I can only give you impressions. What I can say, is that I'm certain your sparks are older than your frames, that they are all close to the same age and were connected before you were sparked into this life, and that your souls have not always been in the form of a spark from Primus. You were something else before you were Cybertronian."

The group looked at each other, most gazes settling on Silverbolt, while Silverbolt looked at Skydive and Skydive at Fireflight. The communications network between the five lit up to a dizzyingly level.

"So ... we used to be related organics?" Silverbolt asked cautiously, cubes of high grade passed around and quickly downed.

"I have strong impressions of a flock," she nodded, closing her eyes, focusing her much deeper sight on them. "Related sentient avian organics. There was peace, freedom, flight, and then something that terrified all of you, a suggestion of extreme pain ... torture ... and a decision to come back as you are to stop it from happening to your kin."

"What a bunch of slag," Slingshot burst out, as Corazon had expected him to from what she saw in his spark. "That is the most obvious thing you could have come up with. You are totally making it up. We weren't a bunch of smelly, squishy, feathered organics."

Air Raid reached out and cuffed him upside the helm without thinking, which caused Fireflight to giggle at the glare Slingshot gave in return.

"He has a point, even if he has no manners," Silverbolt said cautiously, two-thirds of his first cube gone and with no intention of stopping. "It's a well-known bit of history."

"But it does have historical precedent," Skydive added, speaking to his brothers instead of Corazon. "It has been stated by both priests and Prime that organics have returned as sparks."

Corazon smiled. "It won't hurt my feelings if you don't believe me. It could certainly be a product of my imagination. Just the sort of thing some silly bruja pretending to have the sight would say. Let me ask you this, though. Would you put it past Wheeljack to _ask_ Prime to try to summon organic avian sparks from the Allspark for his creations?"

The brothers looked at each other, then answered as one.

"No."

"If it occurred to him, he'd do it," Silverbolt said with certainty as Slingshot glowered. "If he could figure out how, _all_ sparks would be organic."

"Well, that would be silly of him," Corazon sounded ready to go scold Wheeljack to his face. "The universe needs all kinds. But mixing things up a bit isn't bad at all. You are Cybertronians now, fully, and nothing in your past can change that. But you have an experience in your sparks that grants you a perspective others of your kind don't share. Have you ever felt like you were different - beyond simply the difference of being fliers among a faction that is mostly grounders?"

"Plenty of times, but we're an Aerial gestalt with Seeker coding, a Wheeljack creation and despite what folks say, younger than Bumblebee," Silverbolt spelled it out. "_Different_ doesn't begin to cover us."

Corazon took a swig of her tequila. "Young, handsome, misunderstood. You are going to have all of the hopeless romantic muchahos and muchachas flocking your way when you are ready to claim," she laughed, then laughed even harder at the confusion on their faces. "Ok, my turn. What's the difference between Aerials and Seekers? And why is it significant that Wheeljack gave you Seeker coding?"

Silverbolt motioned to Skydive.

"Seekers are a relatively new sub-species of Cybertronian, though they pre-date the war by generations. They are coded as combat fliers, but also with very strong social coding to bind into trines that balance each other out; a leader, known as "order", a thinker, known as "vision" and a warrior, known as "action". They also have very strong social coding that demands that leaders be followed, and every trine leader must follow the leaders who outrank them, all the way up to the Winglord. They only reproduce by carrying, and to be a Seeker you have to be carried by a Seeker.

"If you are a flier with Seeker coding but weren't carried by one, you're a combat Aerial, or Seeker-kin. Most happen when a Seeker kindles with somebody that isn't one, but Jack somehow figured out how to add the coding to us. It makes us more social, more loyal and a lot more aggressive. Aerial is a catch-all term for a flier that isn't a Seeker."

She watched their energies closely while Skydive spoke, looking at the thin, tenuous connections between them and the other flying mechs from their faction ... and a few from the other side.

It was a conflicted relationship, at best. Slingshot resented the Seekers, and at the same time wanted to be one. He had a strong desire for a trine, for the balance that came from being the warrior, flying on the left wing of a strong leader. His own gestalt did not provide the balance he craved. It helped her feel more compassion for his rudeness. He was forced to live out of balance because he had too much Seeker code in him.

On the opposite end was Silverbolt, who didn't truly have enough of the coding to keep his more aggressive brothers in check, though he took his duties as leader very seriously and tried to be what they needed, even when he didn't understand it.

In time, she could see the possibility of a trine within the gestalt. Skydive was already a perfect vision, and both Air Raid and Fireflight had leadership potential, given time and need to grow into it.

"What are you seeing?" Fireflight asked, interrupting her reverie. The seemingly innocent, distracted Aerial picked up on more than he let on.

"The Seeker code ... it's stronger in some of you than others. It makes it difficult for you all to try to be what the others need, to find balance," she said carefully, not wanting to offend.

Silverbolt simply nodded. "I've noticed," he said quietly, now almost halfway through his second cube of high grade. "We were the first to have the code artificially added, at least as far as anyone knows. From what doesn't get said around us, we're lucky we're not completely glitched. It was never meant to function outside of kindling-created mechs."

She watched with gentle amusement as the seemingly distracted and oblivious Fireflight immediately launched himself into their leader's lap and comforted him. He ran his talons along his larger brother's chest and chirped in some language all their own, as well as communicating across the bond that she could watch, but not hear or feel. The leader was hurting a great deal. He did the best he could, tried so hard, but in the end, couldn't be what they truly needed and they all knew it.

When direct comfort didn't seem to help, Fireflight gave a pathetic sounding chirp, his wings quivering and armor clicking in a display of distress better suited to a sparkling, but she watched with a private smile as it did the job, just as Fireflight intended. Silverbolt may have a hard time accepting comfort, but it made him feel much better when he could give it. The display worked its magic on the rest of his brothers as well, and in less than a minute there was an aerial-pile of caressing hands and soothing hums.

Almost as quickly as it began, it ended and the brothers parted, settling back to where they had been to start with, though Fireflight remained attached to Silverbolt's lap.

"Are Perceptor and Drift courting you?" Skydive asked out of seemingly nowhere.

"Well, Perceptor likes to study me," she said with a cackle and a wink, downing another shot-sized drink of her tequila from the bottle. "He can't seem to get enough of the probings. But courting might be a strong word. I'll help them kindle if they want an old hag like me, but I've never been good at being the exclusive type, not even with aliens." She grinned at the group and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "If I ended up doing the socket samba with you, it wouldn't be cradle robbing, would it?"

Five blank looks were their response, before they looked at each other in even more confusion and scanned her thoroughly before exchanging a series of looks with each other again.

"I _think_ she means to ask if we're too young to interface," Skydive said hesitantly.

Corazon howled with laughter at their confusion, taking another large swig from her bottle.

"Oh, you are all just too precious for words. Si, mijos, that is exactly what I was asking. I think there is a special hell reserved for crones like me that want pretty young things like you."

"We have the upgrades and protocols for interfacing, with each other and with sockets," Silverbolt said, though he still looked a little confused. "In years, we're much older than you are. Relative ... you probably would be 'robbing the cradle' in a manner. Not that we're objecting."

"But I won't end up in the brig? I'd get cold and lonely there," Corazon swept them all with wide smile. "All things are relative when it comes to age. Not only are you young for your kind, your souls are so young and pretty and I'm such a naughty old bruja. I might give you all the wrong ideas about organics."

"But how could you do that?" Fireflight asked, genuinely confused. "You have great energy, some of the best on base. Everyone wants to give you a try."

"You won't end up in the brig," Silverbolt stuck with the part he understood. "We are fully upgraded mechs. You won't be our first socket charge."

"Just close to it," Air Raid grinned and shifted to crawl towards her, his wings quivering in anticipation as he reached out to pick her up. "It's a rush even though we don't need it yet."

She wondered briefly how having formerly organic souls affected the need, but decided to dismiss that thought completely looking at the pretty flier with such strangely humanoid features, more humanoid than nearly any of the mechs on base. Probably another Wheeljack special, she guessed.

"Are we going to do this here, or do you all like to play around in the sky?" she asked breathlessly, pulling up her long silver braids so any who wanted to could plug into her shiny new socket.

Slightly drunken grins spread among the Aerialbots and half finished cubes were downed.

"Oh yeah, we are _so_ going to fly," Slingshot grinned even more as the gestalt began to move, going airborne right off the giant berth.

"Want to ride inside, or in my hands?" Air Raid shivered in excitement as his cable plugged into her socket, giving her a taste of what it meant to be a natural-born flier in the air.

"Ay, Dios mio! Let's see if I have the huevos to be in your hands," she called over the roar of five sets of thrusters. "If you end up needing your hands, you can put me inside."

~Will do,~ he opened up to her across the cable connecting them, absolutely delighting in her reactions to flying.

Corazon screamed in delight, like the little girl she was at heart as she felt herself _become_ Air Raid, thrusters taking them into the moist tropical air above the Indian Ocean, still in his root form. He was meant for the skies. Not only in his coding and frame, but his very spark, which had flocked with his brothers long before this lifetime.

It wasn't long before she was allowed into the gestalt link and _felt_ what he did of his brothers as they twisted and dove, darting playfully this way and that. Silverbolt relatively close to the waves, Fireflight continually being pinged by the others to keep him from hitting a wave, everyone fully enjoying the slightly overcharged excursion.

~Space/'face/play?~ a thought-feeling tricked across the gestalt bond from someone ... probably Fireflight ... and was met with resounding approval from everyone but Silverbolt.

~Come on Bolts,~ Fireflight cooed at the acrophobic Aerial. ~You can't fall up there.~

Corazon's resounding YES to the idea swept through the gestalt in a searing blaze of organic pleasure.

~Saturn?~ she begged, a lifetime of yearning for space and watching humanity take its baby steps towards the stars caught in a single word. She felt her pleasure and excitement catch Silverbolt and push his fears far enough down to agree without another thought.

~Now you have to go inside,~ Air Raid said, half in apology, before transforming and setting her in his cockpit. Buckles secured her on their own, and she knew without being told that they were all taking the acceleration and climb conservatively out of respect to her frail organic form.

Connected to the gestalt through Air Raid, she felt Silverbolt ping their flight pattern to command and receive instant approval, along with admonition from Jazz to keep her safe or there would be hell to pay with Mirage.

~Do I need a helmet, or a spacesuit or something,~ she asked, her mental voice trembling with excitement as Air Raid showed her the flight path that would take them to Saturn and back, including a close encounter with several of Jupiter's moons.

~Nope, you're safe inside us,~ he promised, and she felt agreement from the others filter in. ~What else would you enjoy?~

~Everything! Anything! Just let me feel what it is like to be you ... to fly through space as someone who belongs there, mijos.~

Without words her emotion flooded them ... how she had longed for and looked to this moment her entire life, ever since her vision as a child. That she could, literally, die now feeling as though her life was complete having done this with them, not that she had any plans to meet her maker that soon.

In return their pleasure of both spark and processors at sharing this washed through her. Without being asked, Air Raid offered her more feedback from his systems, to let her _be_ him, even control his body, once they passed the moon and were in relatively open space.

The curandera gleefully complied with a caress of pure gratitude, then a loud 'whoop' as she began spinning in zero g, allowing the others to guide her and make suggestions at what stunts to try next.

~Wheeeeeee! Fantasticimo!~ she cried out as she began to race with the others, trusting that Air Raid would stop anything bad from happening if her poor organic brain didn't catch a danger in time.

~Such wonderful energy,~ the jet she was in groaned against her mind in ecstasy bordering on an overload. ~You're so intense.~

~Have to be!~ she laughed. ~Our lives are too short to be anything but! This is so good! Ejoles! Watch out Fireflight!" she cried out as the red jet nearly collided with an asteroid, which, naturally, led some sort of uniquely Aerialbot game of dodge, hide and chase in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter. Corazon could only scream in delight, trying to keep up and use her mammalian brain's unique attachment to movement and pattern recognition to keep Fireflight from ending the flight early.

~He's tougher than he looks,~ Air Raid chuckled when too much of her attention focused on the flighty Aerialbot.

~He is so perfectly named,~ she giggled, brushing close to the more stately flying Silverbolt with a teasing dip of her, or rather Air Raid's wing and wiggle of his tail. ~How do you all get your names, anyhow? Do you choose them?~

~Yes, all mechs come online knowing their designation,~ Air Raid told her. ~It's attached to our sparks as far as anyone's worked out. It's not in our frames, but we know it when we first boot up.~

Corazon lost herself again in the play of the jets, which was quickly becoming more flirtatious as they moved between the larger asteroids. She had to consciously remember to think and move in three dimensions, which came so naturally to Air Raid and his brothers.

They flew by Ceres, the dwarf planet and largest body in the belt. It was large enough to have its own gravitational field, and Slingshot, after being urged by his brothers, demonstrated his unique skill when it came to using such a field in maneuvers, catapulting himself toward them at twice ... now five times the speed his own engines were capable of. He flashed by the rest, calling out to them to catch and face him as he rocketed toward Jupiter.

Powerful engines roared to full power, causing their frames to vibrate as the four strained their limits in an effort to catch up, all of them eager for the chase to end, but not eager enough to call Slingshot back to them.

~What will you do with him when you catch him?~ she asked playfully, her small body responding with all of the lust that flowed through the gestalt. The small part of her still aware of her own body felt herself spread her legs and throw back her head in desperate desire as the sheer speed overwhelmed her. Had they been in the atmosphere, the g-forces would have crushed her.

She gasped when she first saw the glowing ball of Jupiter through Air Raid's optical sensors, revealing the eddies and storms of its turbulent clouds with detail no earth built probe or telescope could ever display. The planet literally seemed to sing to her.

She was so taken with it that she did not even notice Slingshot in ambush until the mech was on Air Raid, fingers pressed against plaiting, working against sensor ports that set his circuits and her body on fire.

There was a whine of desperate want and Air Raid took control back, transforming in Slingshot's embrace and pressing into his brother with a kiss and knowing hands.

She was not even aware of her body still safe in the cockpit on his back. She lost herself completely in the power of two space-faring mechs whose thrusters and fields worked effortlessly to set the other ablaze. Air Raid's body was alive with the sensors needed to navigate the rich and complex environments he was designed for, both atmospheric and beyond.

Then Fireflight was there, pressed against Air Raid's back. His thrusters were up by his brother's head and his face between the other's legs as he playfully teased Air Raid's valve cover.

It wasn't long before her ride slid the cover open, allowing his most playful brother full access to his valve even as demanding clawed fingers scrapped against the front cover. Slingshot wanted his spike.

With a mental nudge, she managed to get Slingshot to move into the same position in front as Fireflight was in back, allowing Air Raid and Slingshot to simultaneously swallow the other's thick spike while the vacuum of space swallowed the mewling sounds in Fireflight's throat as his glossa delved deep into his brother's valve, his legs clamping both of the other frames to hold them together.

In the open sharing that was the gestalt link at full bandwidth, Corazon could feel/see/know where all five were, and not just what they were doing, but what each member of the gestalt got from it. Deep down, she understood that they only opened up this much when interfacing. It hurt too much when they were _thinking_.

But at moments like this, it was right on a level unlike anything she had felt. A rush of yes and now and together drew in the remaining two - Silverbolt gladly filling Fireflight's valve even as Skydive did the same to his leader.

There was no sound, but with their minds linked even more deeply than bonding; they didn't need any help knowing how to touch or what the others enjoyed. Each touch, thrust and move sent just the right licks of pleasure across the five frames all working to draw out the overload until it couldn't be stopped.

Her strong yet elderly body didn't stand a chance as mind-shattering orgasm after orgasm flooded through her without her ever being touched physically. For a brief moment, she feared that her heart was about to stop from it all. But the fear was brushed aside with laughing assurances from all that the Hatchet would never have left her with organs the couldn't handle the stain, and even unclaimed, the basic nanites that went with her socket were keeping her healthy.

Not that she would have minded dying this way.

She was vaguely aware of her energy flowing into Air Raid's spark, which reveled and pulsed at the sweetness of it, enjoyed the taste, but did not consume it. Instead, it dissipated as shared sensation among his brothers; appreciated, but not needed. Their sparks were still too young.

She didn't have time to consider it when the next overload took the gestalt and she was carried away on waves of bliss again.

She had a vague memory of Air Raid somehow placing her in Silverbolt's hold, the smaller jet belly to belly with the futuristic atmospheric shuttle whose earth alt did not yet exist. When she became more aware, she was strapped in a luxurious seat, covered in a soft blanket, a tube of sparkling water in her hand to sip at zero-g. She was surrounded by window-like screens giving her a close-up tour of Saturn's rings.

"Oh...OH!" she gasped, stunned by the colors and shimmering light, the ethereal beauty of something she had dreamed of seeing her entire life.

"We'll tour the rings as long as you like," Silverbolt's warm voice caressed her from all sides as he skimmed within feet of the icy crystals and dust.

"Forever?" she asked with a laugh. "You are totally indulging an old woman, mijo, and I adore you for it."

She watched in silence for a time, then lifted her hair in a silent plea for Silverbolt to connect so she could experience the majesty through his own sensors, while at the same time focusing in with her own sight on the Aerialbots, the gas giant, and its moons.

He connected without hesitation, flooding her mind with his own experiences and those of his brothers as they channeled their own sensory readouts to him. The EM fields of the planet and its moons and rings literally did sing to them, and they joyfully shared other memories of gas giants, supernova and galaxies she would never see with her own eyes, but could be shared as though she had been there herself.

Suddenly, a soft finger was wiping a tear away from her wrinkled face. She opened her eyes to find herself surrounded by five devastatingly handsome, and _very_ young men who seemed to have emerged from a multiethnic fantasy representing the very finest humanity had to offer.

Not one had a stitch of clothing on, and all were _very_ eager in a well-endowed way.

"Since you seem to enjoy 'robbing the cradle', as you put it," Silverbolt's voice came from the tallest of the five - a handsome, muscular African man with serious, beautiful features.

"I've died and gone to heaven!" She exclaimed before her mouth was claimed, and five perfect, young masculine bodies fulfilled fantasies even her wild and free mind had never before imagined.


End file.
